#lil jilly

[roopnavarro]

More trailer screenshots from Furiosa (2024)

[giyuulatte]

i’m going back to my marauders phase ahhhh LEAVE ME ALONE

[wearesociety]

on tiktok and this creator who post fics from many fandoms is talking about zutara fics and recs. this creator does talk about HP fics. mostly drarry and dramoine. tell me why a j€gulus is commenting on the zutara rec video and recommending j€gulus fics. the creator then says she’s not into them and the account continues to influence them. this is getting out of hand. ship what you want and let people do the same. but their need to coral every single stan they see needs to be studied as if by having such a large fandom they can somehow change canon and completely earse ships that compete with them.

[bloodcasket]

“ EASY, BABY ”⋆ ﾟ☾

PAIRING: DI!Jill Valentine x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Pure NSFW (descriptive smut), Age gap centered!! (Death Island! Jill), Female described reader, Dom!Jill, Sub!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, reader described as more inexperienced than Jill (nothing too specified), innocence kink, fingering, finger sucking, tribbing, panty play, dirty talk, jill just loves to praise, teasing on Jill’s behalf, a lil bit of manhandling. LIGHTLY PROOF-READ!

WORD COUNT: 7.4K+

DESCRIPTION: The whole department and crew is out for celebration at a restaurant. As Jill sits amongst the table, she spots the new girl, young and timid, giving shy glimpses from across the table.

AUTHORS NOTE: SUPERR rusty after lack of writing for a couple of months now, really hoping this satisfies because Jilly bean doesn’t get enough fics written about her. Let me know if there’s any mistakes, please and thank you! (I’m so normal for her, i promise). Took me too long to finish, and i got lazy toward the end.

The last thing you wanted was to deal with any of the men sitting around you, feeling forced to pry out fake enjoyment and formulate fraudulent smiles at any of their cheesy comments.

They were all grown and lax, after all, middle-aged and experienced, their worries about leaving bad impressions left long ago after years of regulating bioterrorism. They just simply didnt care, and tonight was meant to be jubilant, after all. It was a way to congratulate the team for arriving back home in one piece. Clank glasses of iced bourbon and smile after the weeks of prolonged misery and uncertainty.

It had only been a few minutes that you sat, waiting at this table, the celebratory event making you feel like the black sheep.

A timid, young stranger, her shoulders hunched in discontent, and her expression nonchalant as she sat alongside the chairs of older individuals, ones who laughed and cheered, shook hands and grinned with their cheeks shaded crimson, wrinkles creasing around the shape of their eyes.

It was people who worked drastically to make the trip to Alcatraz bearable, and handled more experience within this field. Something you felt you lacked. Something you saw yourself unequal to, off putting. In other words, even undeserving.

Employment under “The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance” was nearing a few months now for you, but your line of work strayed far from any defensive units, due to your familiarity with the information management department. You organized required files and handled technological tasks under supervisors order, you weren’t genuinely handling firearms and terminating undead like the others were within the BSAA. You were simple, and did your part, participation with higher-ups was foreign.

The invitation to come here was optional, of course, but your ripe desire to see a certain woman was hard to swallow. After several days of trying to deny yourself this opportunity, the denial became fruitless, and you finally succumbed; which leads you to sitting at this lengthy dining room table, shuffling in discomfort and trying best to bite back any resurfacing regret.

It’s a restaurant, aromas conjoining in the air, certain scents collecting that it perplexes you. The whisks of alcohol burn through your nostril hairs—your lip twitches in discontent, jaw soon slacking as fragrances of broth and caramelized delicacies fog around you. You scrunch your face and twist your cute nose, huffing in the perfumes of delight.

It was all so overwhelming, and yet you had barely done anything yet sit and spend a few minutes skimming the menu—fiddling with your hands on the table when you yearned for a distraction. And yet; another server hurries past your seat, wide platters in hand, a trail of aromatics left in his wake. Drool draws upon your impatient tongue, you wondered how much longer it would take.

“Jill, didn’t think you’d make it”, a male voice chimes, you're able to single it out amongst the banter of the public place, trying best to listen as other residents at the table mumble out tipsy-tainted sentences, snortling and getting themselves comfortable as they slosh down fancy cocktails.

The timid position in which you kept yourself in the moment you sat down at this table seems to have been disoriented, a stiffness residing down the arch of your neck as you lift your head and adjust your eyes to your surroundings.

Dimly lit, and silken curtains are drawn over windows for the evening, you blink a few times to observe across the table, eyes stretching past messy cutlery, and halfway bubbling glasses. You blink again, throat moving slowly as you swallow dryly.

Under tinted yellow light, she sits. She’s shaking her head, exaggerating a huff of exhaustion as she edges her seat closer to the table. Brunette hair is silken and syrupy brown, a few strands askew from where she let the hair descend down her face and tickle the middle of her neck, the vision filling you with exhilaration.

‘Jill Valentine’, you suddenly think, watching as she’s easing herself more comfortably into the seat, shaded heels of her boots sliding forward as she pushes her legs apart, elbows jutting against the hickory surface that you oh-so-admired for several minutes straight. She’s hunched over improperly, wrapped up in a gray woolen cardigan, not caring much for table manners. A heat brewed low in the pit of your stomach.

“Had to finish my report, it was a pain in the ass”, her adjacent partner seems to love this reaction—being that he chuckles shortly afterward, “would prefer if you took it off my shoulders next time”.

“Your responsibility”, he replies nonchalantly, Chris Redfield from what you remember, a known operator within the BSAA. He was respected largely by his peers, a man with his time spent sacrificing and protecting, all for the benefit of “greater good”. You couldn’t say much about him, you couldn’t say much about anyone to be quite frank, except for one person. His partner in crime.

Needless to say, you scrounged through your closet for hours one night to pull out piles of clothes in desperate search to find something presentable for this woman. Bouncing your eyes back and forth over different varieties of garments, torturing yourself over the delusional manifestation that you’ll attract Jill Valentine tonight.

Intimidating. Most would plaster that description over her if it was all for first impressions. A 41 year old military woman who can carry her guns just as wonderfully as she can carry her foul language. She’s blunt, and by no means patient due to certain circumstances, but with the small moments she’s managed to pass alongside you, the tiny things don’t go unnoticed.

Coincidentally, you bump into her in the lobby; she’d chuckle jovially, waving one hand toward you dismissively as you ramble out apologetic gibberish. Reassuringly telling you “it’s not a problem, don’t worry about it”.

You’re heading toward a file room? She’ll catch you in the halls, velvet lips upturned into a gentle grin as she greets you with your name slipping off her tongue, blue eyes narrowed down at you in an observant manner. She remembers the little details, remembers you.

To say it was innocent appreciation was incorrect. It was an attraction, and the more your female superior managed to cross paths with you, the more you felt the warmth in your stomach churn and twist. It embarrassed you, to say the least. Jill Valentine was probably an individual with her priorities straight, and here you were, grinding your thighs together as you squirm uncomfortably in your seat, front teeth gnawing on the swell flesh of your bottom lip. You looked ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Ogling an older woman as if she were some high school crush. Where were your priorities?

Heaps of chestnut hair suddenly color your vision, blocking your delicate view as a head leans forward to inch closer to the woman you admire, “Here Jill, saved your drink until you got here”, her voice is flowery and feminine, a tinge of nasal sweetness at the end of her chirping sentences. “Glad to see you”. You almost envy her in this moment.

“Thanks, Claire”, a pale palm wraps around the transparent glass, pearls of condensation glistening on Jill’s lengthy fingertips, her nails clumsily trimmed, and beaten hands calloused from her work. You feel your breath hitch at the sight, cotton mouthed as you watch.

Tonight was going to be long. Too long, if this was all you were going to think about.

Claire retreats to her original position in the chair, her conversation with the brunette ephemeral as she focuses her attention on another, leaving Jill solemn in her thoughts, curtly nodding to every general word Chris might possibly say. She’s taciturn, and trained on the voice of her adjacent companion.

Without the veil of ember strands shrouding over the woman’s face, you melted in your seat, lethargic and ditzy as you bored your beady eyes into the vision that was just blissfully her.

One sip, then another. Her lips curl around the lip of the glass, swallowing measured amounts of golden whiskey that smell like smoke and peaty.

“We should all get together and go on vacation after all this, think we deserve that much”, Chris suggests this as he wedges his fork into the collops of filet spread along his plate, in which the other hums, her eyes flickering from the pit of her glass and then forward, peering across the table.

Rings of cerulean catch your nosiness, and you feel the organ within your rib cage falter, and then within seconds accelerate, heart racing like a jack rabbit inside your chest. She caught you staring.

She keeps the contact for a few seconds; you’re the one who widens your eyes and cowers into yourself, suddenly pretending that the entree platter of pillowy bread rolls is of much more interest.

You think you’ve gone crazy, due to the slanted, open mouthed smirk she summons on her face, mumbling a few words in reply to the male beside her (which you don’t catch due to how much blood is rushing to your face, head swarmed with internal comments of how utterly humiliated you feel). Nevertheless, the intrigue she displays is clearly prevalent, more so in the way your young face ducked to hide yourself other than the subtle conversation Chris clearly tried to create.

Just as you had foreseen, the night was indeed long and mundane, and your quick glances at the nonchalant beauty sitting opposite of you was practically dangerous, due to how cautious she seemed of her surroundings and every object that crossed her. A habit she carried in her occupation, you supposed. She was by no means incognizant. (It would be a lie if you didn’t at least give one glimpse, though. Maybe two…maybe three).

You can’t recall if it had been an hour or more, but the facade of enjoyment seemed to lose its potency, and perhaps for others as well.

Little by little, the crew took their leave, furred winter coats slung over the slope of their shoulders as they waved and headed out for the night, giving you some trivial excuse to join alongside them. With the bill paid generously in reward for everyone, the crowd migrated out through the exit doors and into the parking lot, the wisps of frosty air breezing past in copious amounts.

You trembled, nails dipped into the lower fabric of your mini dress, trying best to ease it further down your thighs as you cursed yourself for wearing such attire.

‘All that work just to stare at her like a fucking idiot’, and now here you were, with gritted teeth and trembling flesh as you shuffled down the sidewalk in shame, purse hung over your shoulder whilst you made your way home. That is, until the crackling of gravel wound up behind you, tires rolling over cement and bright beams flashing over you as if you were a deer in the headlights. An unfamiliar car slowly approaches beside you, and you stumble in your heels as you halt.

“You waitin’ on someone or something?”, the subdued hum of the engine had synthesized with the husky chuckle that was rightfully Jill’s, “don’t tell me you were actually gonna walk home in that? No jacket?”

An arm is laid firm across the surface of her car door, her head peering out through the window as she leans forward, her expression is practically incredulous. As if she was disappointed in your choice-making, and your lack of self-awareness for the weather and time of night. She thrums her fingers across the door impatiently, other hand gripping her steering wheel as she expects an answer.

“I was just-“, and here’s the flaring heat of humiliation rising once more. Your lips are molded into a solemn line, her glare of ridicule made you feel guilty for not asking for her aid in the first place. “I’m not too far from here- I wouldn’t want to be a bother”. You’re lying through your teeth, and the brunette scoffs as if she already knows.

“Fucking hell, you were actually going to do it? You’re too young to be doing stuff like that”, she jests in a low manner, muttering more so to herself than to you. Her arm slithers back inside the vehicle, head motioning to the empty passenger seat with a quick nod. “Like hell I’m letting you walk home, it’s not safe. I’ll give you a ride. Get in”.

The authority of her tone makes your knees wobbly, and the way she sits back in her seat with her neck craned against the headrest commands urgency. She’s waiting. You feel a lump harden in your throat. She’s waiting for you.

You hasten your little steps, sheepishly opening the car door and sliding inside, whispering with pruned lips how thankful you are for the ride. You’re stiff in the seat next to her, hands folded in the center of your lap; they were numbed from the cold, goosebumps embroidered along your delicate flesh.

“Don’t mention it”, she brushes off the innocent gratitude with a witty shake of her head, vehicle rolling through the asphalt, leaving the parking lot with just a planate flick of the wrist, elongated fingers dipping into the rubberized padding of the steering wheel. You watch from your peripheral, nostrils flaring as you shakily inhale, splashes of soap and freshly cleaned laundry breeze over you, and you relish in it, stomach all filled with butterflies over something as simple as the older woman’s scent.

“Where to, then?”, she inquires with a throaty hum, vision focused on the road ahead of her. She sighs in frustration when you tell her, though she grins in utter amusement, laughing when you deluge her with stuttering apologies over a mere lie.

“Christ. Thought you said you were close?”. She makes a turn, dirt crackling under the wheels as she pulls onto another street.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble in shame, hands folding tighter and tighter until your knuckles jut against your skin, your face all flushed. Lower lining of the dress you wore was hiked up your thighs, you felt so exposed and scrutinized alongside her, in her car.

“It’s alright, don’t take me too seriously. New girl, right? I remember. Explains why you’re always so quiet”, Jill continues with the conversation, glimpsing over just for a second to study you before she’s focused again. “You enjoy the place? They had some nice drinks, don’t you think? It wasn’t all too bad”, you frown at her words, a heaviness nested in your chest. You hadn’t really done much tonight at the celebration. Nothing other than ogle at her, eat some bread rolls, and then ogle at her some more.

“I didn’t drink anything really, unfortunately”, admitting this was rather awkward, due to how much desire you held to impress her. Now you just felt inadequate, lackluster. “Too many people I didn’t know, if that makes any sense. I must sound boring, don’t I?”.

“Not even one drink?”, she questions, lips curved up into an open-mouthed grimace as she flutters her eyelashes in teasing surprise. “Free to get whatever you want, and you’re telling me you were too shy to even drink anything?”, and she sneers when you nod, biting down laughter in hopes she could keep you comfortable in her presence. Smile lines deepen around the shape of her mouth, silky lips blessed with a tint of coral, apples of her cheeks glowing with every beguilement grin.

“It doesn’t hurt to celebrate, you know. You work hard, I’ve noticed”, she pauses, considering her next words carefully, not wanting to tread any risky lines, “I’m not that far from my apartment anyway, want to have a drink or two? Think I’ve got some lying around, wouldn’t hurt to get em’ used up”.

Green light hanging up ahead switches rapidly from yellow to red, crimson hue painted over the dashboard and along the height of your body. You’ve sunken a little in the passenger seat, all wide-eyed and panicked when she offers. You open your mouth to answer, but she cuts you off before you could turn the opportunity down.

“Just the two of us, okay? I don’t bite, I promise”, and you swear you’re melting, too convinced. You nod in response, a simple “sure” is all you can hiccup.

‘Maybe all that time ripping apart my wardrobe was worth it?’

Maybe so, because Jill fucking Valentine is moving her lengthy index finger to the left of her steering wheel, flicking on her turn signal without a single ounce of hesitation, and then making a u-turn that can only promise one thing.

The ride to her apartment.

Agreeing was most definitely easier than doing, that was for certain. With the door opening, and her leading the way inside, not only then does it really solidify into reality. One of your leading superiors—a trained operations agent—has driven you back to her apartment to “share drinks” and “celebrate without all the other chatter”. At least that’s what she bargained for in the car.

You’ve politely found purchase on the faux leather cushion of her couch, material beige and smoothened, and you curl into it as you keenly gape around the place.

The condo is fresh, and crisp, organized and minimalistic, but still with a trace that’s so understandably miss valentine.

After hearing about rumors of Jill’s horror in raccoon city, you can almost bet she’s much more at ease now, with her new place, and her new position. Eager to distance from her solemn past.

She’s a workaholic, that’s for sure, multiple rooms in her living space and she’s dedicated one for her research; the door slightly agape, and you can’t help but satiate your curiosity as you squint your eyes and look past the doorknob.

With what little you can see through the crevice, there’s a desk inside with files strewn along the top, corkboard furnished along the wall and vital information pinned to it with colored thumbtacks. Not able to help yourself, a tender smile cracks on your lips as you notice irrelevant stickers plastered along the granulated cork, designs of cats and succulents the older woman has happily put everywhere. Your heart pangs at the innocent gesture, imagining such a stern individual indulging herself with such small and adorable items.

“Do you have a preference? Want anything in particular?”, said woman calls from the kitchen, face astern and a hand pushing the fridge door open. Hastily, you retreat your beady eyes, suddenly feeling impertinent for your sense of wonder. She lists off what she has, but it’s all foreign to you, not making much sense from your lack of alcohol expertise.

“I’m not sure”, you shrug sheepishly, a bashful grin displayed, “anything is fine, really”. ‘Anything that you pick, I’ll drink’, sounds more correct, but you digress.

She reads you like you’re an open book, your naivety and youth all too transparent and sat right on her couch, eyebrows furrowed and hands respectfully folded in your lap. A position she’s noticed you in ever since you were rigid and unsettled in her vehicle. When were you ever going to relax? It filled her with incomprehensible mirth, the way you were.

“You’re quite young, aren’t you?”, Jill teases a little, poking at the spots that make you internally weak as she flashes a knowing smirk, “don’t drink a lot I take it? That’s alright”.

She retrieves two glasses from her cupboard and fills them with her pick as you so kindly advocated, closing the fridge and then sauntering over. She takes her place beside you, the leather sinking from the weight of two, her thigh resting along the couch and the shape of her kneecap brushing against you.

“All yours. Bottoms up”, a throaty chuckle resounds in her throat as she offers the drink, ushering for you to take it into your small hands, in which you oblige with unreadable panic. “Cheers”, she clinks her glass with yours, before she’s reclining into the cushion and swallowing, throat muscles contracting up and down.

You only manage to gulp down a small portion of the beverage, soured reaction shriveling your lips. It wasn’t the most enjoyable, but it was Jill’s, and you found it as well sought after as any nobel prize. This drink, this couch, this moment. This moment with her, even if every lick of the bitter whiskey was deathly, you would still sacrifice every lumpy taste bud just for a second with the woman.

Slowly, she sets the drink down on the coffee table, and you watch her movements carefully. Those hands of hers guide the cardigan off her shoulder blades, shrugging the gray fabric down and onto an armrest with a composed exhale.

What torture it is, your foolish reverence for her. Dirty incalescence ferments between the swell of your thighs, burning and burning once you catch sight of the dip between her chest, cleavage freckled with age and brown moles dotted along her sharpened collarbone. Her tight little blue tank top hiding underneath that damned cardigan this whole time. The fabric is stressed across the seaming of her bust, creased and curled until it dips down and hugs around the frame of her waist. There’s no fucking way you’ll be able to make it through tonight without slipping up.

“You’re brave for working under the organization, no matter what you do. Reminds me of when I first started training, I was around your age too. It’s risky, but I’m sure you already know that”, she bends downward to unlace her coal-shaded boots, tugging the zipper down without an ounce of patience in her.

“You gettin’ along with everybody? How is everything, with the new position and all? I mean, the way you were acting earlier, it makes me worried. If anyone’s screwing with you-”.

“No no no, it’s not like that, I promise”, you cut her off, shaking your head quickly in hopes you could help her understand your viewpoint, in which she glances at you and sits upright. She got you to talk, and if she wasn’t absolutely smug about it.

“Everything is fine, and the department is kind to me. You’ve been very generous too, and I’m thankful. I’m just…still trying to get used to everything”, she bobs her head with acumen, digesting every syllable and stumble of your words, listening maturely. She finds flattery in your compliment toward her, doing best not to grin.

“How is it with, um…you and Chris?”, you ask, and the moment the question slips past your lips, you’re filled with utter regret. What kind of question was that? Valentine raises her eyebrow in bewilderment, shocked by the sudden change in subject. She draws her arm along the head of the couch, manspreading whilst she sits as she pleases, eyes still narrowed with pique and pointed in your general direction.

“Me and Chris?”, the laughter she bellows out is vocal, giggling deeply without much restraint, “we’re partners, is all. We’ve been in this field for a while now.”

The way she carries herself around you is as if she’s known you for years, like this is just some humorous conversation that fills her with interest. She wasn’t this excited to speak at the restaurant, you’ve noted, and it’s heartwarming. You, of all people, have made her soft.

Despite all the liquor she’s consumed tonight, she is still impressively sober, quick to catch on to all your soft spoken words, and averting eyes. Although, her high tolerance, of all things, is not a particular trait of hers that surprises you. It only aids the turmoil that rumbles in your chest; it makes you feel weighed down and heavy, the scent of luxurious usquebaugh lingering on her tongue after every breath she releases.

“I see”, you mumble, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jill rolls her blue eyes, “you’re always apologizing, you have nothing to be sorry about”, the room falls silent, clock that’s hung on her wall ticking as seconds prolong into minutes. That is, until she speaks again.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend? Lay it on me”, and the room feels like it’s suddenly enclosing, the words strangely suffocating, and you refuse to admit your sheer infatuation you bore for her. You shake your head with silence, finding that your speechlessness was a better reply rather than your jumbled words of anxious gibberish. One slip up, and you knew it would be over.

Your fingers tease the constricting dress again, eyes exerting to the way your thighs expand and lay flat on her sofa. The way the material fits you like a glove was sweltering, especially with her obsidian pupils beating down on you, drinking up your every tentative counter.

“So that’s a no”, she snorts at your lack of volume, feeling filled with confidence. “You stare a lot, you know that? I noticed you looking at me all night. I don’t scare you, do I?.”

You shoot your attention toward her now, irises apprehensively rounded and wide, and you feel the world absolutely crumble as you're struck with distress over her admittance. She did notice, after all. How pathetic you must have looked the whole time, peering from the fucking entree platter to her every couple of minutes, so visibly envious whenever anyone uttered a single word to her.

“No, I”-

Your pale lips tremble as they open, an absinthal taste wrought over your tongue and depleting any moisture from your mouth. You try to answer, meek and destroyed from your own clumsy dilemma. How different this could have been, if only you weren’t so gullible when it came to your yearning, now leading yourself into chagrin as you couldn’t keep your eyes away earlier.

“I’m sorry”, you pipe out, “I didn’t mean to”-, and she’s engulfing you, brain all smothered into mush and your body liquidizing to putty under the embrace she ensnares you in. Countless nights you’ve spent imagining how every curve of her lips feels pressed along yours, how they move, how they taste, but absolutely nothing can put into words how beautiful they feel as they swallow up your squeaks of dismay.

She’s crawling forward until she’s got you all laid out underneath her, squirming in your position as you submit to the palm she lays on your chest, a firm push she gives until you’ve gone flat amongst the leather cushion. With her legs now entangled with yours, she’s content, humming into the kiss she’s so rightfully initiated, sharp nose dipping into the velvet skin of your face, and skimming along your cheek with every tilt of her head.

Challenged by inexperience, you try best to keep up with the opening and closing of her mouth she’s laying upon you, her eyes sealed as her lips seemingly can’t control themselves, a hunger you’ve never expected from Jill. Flavors of malt she's got melting from her tongue, intoxicated saliva that’s mixed with yours and creating a slippery concoction between your lips with every thirsting lick she provokes.

“Need some attention? Am I right?”, the brunette separates from the bliss she had solicited, lips detaching with a wet smack so she can inhale sharply. “I’m much older than you, much”-, she huffs, airily snickering at the sight behold just right beneath her, “much fucking older.” She drags the wriggling muscle out from between her teeth and over her lips, collecting the moisture and spit you had so generously lathered over her. To die like this, it would be divine.

You lay dormant and vulnerable to her control, but she had warned you. Her words were not to be taken lightly, but rather, considered. To give up your innocence for such a filthy, wretched moment like this, Jill knew better. But those eyes of yours had begged, pleaded, were filled with desperation. Whatever she had done, or would do, you wouldn’t lament over it—but rather—savor it.

“I know”, you speak up, balancing the shakiness that wracks you. You’ve wanted a moment like this with her, and you refused to let it slip away from the cracks of your fingers when she was so, so close to granting you everything you’ve wished. “I know you are.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Explains all the staring, that goddamn dress during winter for Christ’s sake, all on purpose, I take it, tryna get my attention”, the silver pendant of her necklace dangles above you, circling as if it’s meant to entrance you. “The hell am I going to do with you?.”

The authority that oozes off her foul tongue is like morphine, an opiate you’ve swallowed, it’s addictive and ruins your common sense completely. Innocent eyes flicker back and forth, your jaw now slack as you can’t focus between the heat swirling in her pupils, or the way her lips taunt you for another taste.

The delicate curve of her nose, like a deity the way she so naturally is, sculpted from the stars as you examine the dorsal bump that sits near the bridge between her eyes, and then arches down to her cupid's bow. You want to pepper kisses all over her, take a risk into her world, trace the fine lines that are embedded into her pale complexion. God, you wanted it, no matter how foolish you would become.

Not able to withstand another teasing comment, you bring your lips to hers with vehemence, your shaky hands drawn over the stretch of her back, nails bundling up fistfuls of blue cotton fervently and with lack of restraint.

“Easy, baby”, the older woman rasps out a discordant laugh as she eases apart from you, “I got it, sweetheart. Let’s take our time, no need to rush anything.”

But the way your fingers are threading up her spine, carding through the syrupy strands of her hair and burying the pads of your fingers into her darkened roots tell her everything. “Please”, you whisper, a whine of desire prolonging from your throat, “take me to bed.”

And who is she to deny such a request? Fallen at your feet from square one.

With groping hands and ragged breaths, Jill has led you to her room and shoved her calloused hands onto the square of your chest, watching you stumble your way backward until your knees wobble, feet losing balance and you surrender your footing. Now draped along her mattress, you’re sprawled amidst her disheveled sheets, unintentionally alluring at the edge of her bed. A present that needed to be unwrapped and reveled in. Undressed and ravaged.

Undoubtedly, the attraction was mutual. Too reticent to meet her eye, fledgling and modest you were, a stark contrast to the indecent and repugnant men that stuck around and partnered alongside Jill in multiple missions. She was abnormally engrossed in you, freshly employed, seeing a sliver of compassion in every beam you presented, how much you were blossoming compared to the others who groaned and wailed.

Of course, your age had been worrisome, and Jill felt guilt course within her at such salacious contemplations. But to have you laid out in this moment, so youthful, so precious, she knew it was alright. She was going to take such good care of you, that was certain, cherish you like no other. And from the way you propped your weight up onto your elbows to wait for her, in her bed—she knew you had waited a while for this too. The glimmering twinkle in your glossy eyes, an unspoken plea from the depths of your soul.

Jill pried your heels off your feet and threw the irrelevant shoes to the floor, long fingertips prodding along the protruding talus bone and further down to the curve of your calf, pulling your leg upward so she could chastely peck along the skin. Give you softness before she fucked you clueless, solicited vulnerable cries from that sweet mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect, sweet thing. Need you to be good and spread your legs for me”, she mumbles amongst unarticulated nibbles to your calf, two strong hands guiding your limbs apart with your permission. You comply, breath hitched in your throat, craning your neck back once she lowers a palm between your two thighs, index and middle finger circling into your sticky panties, meddling with the sodden gusset.

She grunts, your wet cunt fueling her ego. She knew it was worth examining how ruined you already were, but this quick? How precious.

“Fucking hell, you’re needy”, you flush viciously at her jesting observation, squirming so sensitively at the swirls and caresses of sensual friction, every plunge of her trimmed nails into the flimsy fabric were torturous. Panties are humid and tainted from your own very need, and you feel your body is just an ocean of desire, body overflowing with lecherous want.

You wantonly gripe and huff, dress now creased and hiked up to your navel as Jill holds you still and anchored, one hand clamped around your knee securely as the other is buried between your thighs, toying with you. Coaxing those gentle gasps out of you that make her heart swell, fill her with greedy pride.

“Just a couple of kisses, and your panties are already ruined”, she curls a finger into the band and drags the elastic up, the soiled undergarment loose and freed from your glistening labia, before Jill releases, the material slapping back down within mere seconds. Jolting and whimpering, you’re appalled from the igniting slap amongst your sensitive warmth, hips jittering and Jill flashes you a playful smile.

“Half my goddamn age and gettin’ all wet”, she tugs the panties up now, watching the cotton sink into the slick of your pussy, lips curled around the laced seam and cutely puffed out, glistening with your own pronounced arousal. “Pretty girl”, she muses, dark eyebrows creased and wrinkles of concentration forming along her forehead as she gawks at you coming apart, beseeching for mercy with little squeaks and airy sighs. She wonders when you’ll demand pleasure, but such a sweetheart you are, letting Jill have her way with you.

She’s too impatient for this little game, having enough of prolonging your reward of indescribable pleasure and ecstasy. She pushes the damp gusset to the side, a bridge of transparent slick breaking apart from the undergarment once she bares your cunt to her hungry eyes, lengthy fingers spreading your velvety lips apart, her mouth formulating into an impressed “o” at the vision.

“Jill”-, you pipe up with uncertainty, but she hushes you, another kiss she smothers to your calf. “I know”, she hums, “I know”. You feel all warm inside, sickened with endearment by the way she looks at you, clenching around thin air as you imagine how well she’ll fill you. You’re all hers tonight, she knows this.

A veil of brown tresses conceal half her face as she lowers her head to a calculated angle, sharp collarbone and shoulder blades pronounced once she bends closer to your clit. She collects tepid drool off the tip of her pink tongue, and hurls it down onto your turgescent pearl, watching her bubbling saliva sully your pretty little pussy and drip down to your pulsating hole, entrance begging to be split open as you clench once…then twice, and a third time. You shiver at the contrast of temperature, cool slick now warmed by the draw of her thermal spittle, and you attempt to keep your head up to watch with half-lidded eyes, desperate to see the woman you loved.

Despite her foul-mouthed tendency, and inclination for dirty talk, she was slow, and tender. Her hands were rough, marred from training and littered with blemishes and scarring. Though, she was so considerate the way she plopped her thumb along the swell of your clit, textured fingertips rubbing upward against the flesh, flicking the small, and hardened bud with precision that had you moaning brokenly into her pillows. Your nostrils flare, inhaling her musk that’s adorned the sheets, the scent enveloping you, in which you only moan louder.

“Yeah, feeling good, aren’t you. Like my fingers?”

“Mhm!”, you had no words to speak, clasping onto the bedding as she steadily draws circles of pleasure over your enlarging bud. She tests the waters, pointer finger nudging at your dripping entrance, and when you make no sound of denial, she buries herself inside, curling one finger into your cunt. She laughs flippantly as your body instinctively swallows her in, fleshy walls tightening and frenzied, clenching sporadically around her, and she adds another finger slowly, trying best to be careful with you; her precious girl.

“Jill- oh my god”, the sudden stretch of her fingers is surreal, sticky taint gushing from your weeping hole and defiling the pale, boney fingers that split you apart so remarkably, obscene sonorities that climb up the walls and ring into your ears. You were already soaked earlier after the push of her tongue along your teeth, a saturated flower between your shaking legs, luminous and gleaming after a rainfall of dominance the older woman harbored.

But the way she bullies her knuckles inside you, her spit sloven hands smearing her slobber all over your vulva—you've been undeniably ruined, sopping mess that’s smeared to the flesh of your inner thighs and down to the shape of your rear, and you sob.

“Can’t- can’t do it”, your body says otherwise, pleading for more, blood rich and adrenaline coursing through bluish veins like wildfire. Thrust after thrust, and push after push; transforming your mortal chassis into molten nothingness. You’ve surrendered willingly, fallen victim to a certain euphoria that wounds around you, ensnares you into a blanket of submission.

“You can”, Valentine coaxes, more of a demand than suggestion, inspecting you past her webbed eyelashes, “and you will.” Her two fingers are tight against one another, pummeling toward the spongy muscle inside you with a pump of her wrist, arm flexing as she opens you wide to her advantage, folds spread apart to her liking, flapping limply atop the tarnished knuckles that gets forced into your noisy pussy. You’re writhing desperately, an arm flailing down the arch of your stomach to catch her, and you’re teary eyed; two crystals gleaming and threatening fat tears.

You’ve begun to blubber riddles of nonsense, incoherent gasps that can only direct Jill toward one conclusion, and once your hips grind upward to meet the dry surface of her palm, she’s sucking her teeth. You’re close, she smirks in understanding.

“Hm!”, you shake your head, and what else can you say? Disheveled and torn away, once innocent and pure, now fragmented into a vision of a filth from the way you moan symphonies. Dress slithered up just below the cave of your ribs, and a trembling hand clamping down on the wrist that’s trapped between your lifted thighs, you’re the image of a prostitute.

Nonchalant from your intrusive hand desperate to stop her, Jill swats you away and flashes you an expression that reads ‘don’t do that again’, before she’s plunging once more, and your stomach lurches, hitched breath trapped within your esophagus.

“Listen to yourself”, she tantalizes, sultry remarks hissing from the gaps of her pearly whites, and you whimper delicately as you begin to lose yourself in the bliss. It’s only in that moment of fragility that you recognize what she finds so amusing, the squelching of your cunt, juices lewd and sloppy as they flow, and you’re clenching around the older woman’s joints within. Further and further, until the rope breaks, and you’re crumbling into oblivion, battered fingers ushering you into an orgasm of pristine heaven.

Her thumb lulls you from your sequencing spasms, rubbing your used little clit in tender circles as she marvels over such magnificence with blown pupils, still standing at the edge of the bed whilst she listens to the howls of elation that tumble from your cute lips. She’s got to stop herself from hounding you right now, control the erotic sparks that are boiling underneath the constriction of her pants. She did this, and if she didn’t feel so full of herself because of it. Thoroughly smitten with you.

“There you go”, she hushes you with rasping care, observing with worry as your soft hips remain twitching, “you okay?.”

She abandons the mess she made the moment she joins alongside you, crawling to fill the cold space amongst the bed, suckling marks of woo under the slant of your jaw once she’s beside you. Slender, protective arms are snared around your heaving figure, and you’re humming to reassure her, reaching to grasp onto the meat of her biceps for a sense of imploring comfort.

“You did good”, a husky murmur that rumbles from her, reverberates through you as she douses nurturing pecks along the crown of your swarming head, your brain filled with static and fuzz from such an experience. She thinks you’re finished for the night, wasted and frayed—the humble woman she was—figuring she’ll get you cleaned up and call it a night.

The conclusion is omitted, fortunately, from the moment your mouth falls agape, needy muscle thrashing inside and your libido pulsates. You lever her hand that was once caressing your waist, and bring it upon the seat of your bottom lip, peering past your nose at the wrinkled fingertips; pruned and soiled from the liquid you've drenched them in. Your release, glued and preserved amidst the pores of the brunette's skin.

A low sigh of approval erupts from Jill’s chest as you clean the cracks and crevices you’ve dirtied, your beady eyes now sealed tightly as you slurp on the digits hungrily.

“Can’t baby”, she drawls, cunt throbbing and irritated as it stays purchased amongst the seaming of her ripped jeans. “Might be too much for tonight.”

As if you’re adamant on her docility and compliance, you swirl your tongue over her nail beds, the addictive brewery of your cum, globs of spit, and her flesh had all become dewy and sloshed down the walls of your throat. You moan, bobbing your head until you sputter around her, and the two digits sit upon their tongue-like throne beside the swell of your tonsils, leaving you gagging stupidly by the sensations.

Fucks sake, she wants to pummel that honeyed mound into the sheets until you’re ripping her off, tear streaks racing down your cheekbones. You fucking asked for it? You’re gonna get it.

“Want you to feel good”, you gargle, batting your eyelashes, “please?”

Denial dawns heavily upon her for the second time tonight, the fear of mauling your body—her temple of worship—weighing heavy on her racing heart. But the stench of sex disarms her restraint, the prodding canines and writhing tongue deepthroating her fingers merely convincing her. “Wanna feel you”, you whimper, “wanna”- and there’s no more words that need to be said.

Constricting fabric and other layers of clothes are shredded apart within a matter of seconds, now askew and in disorganized piles amongst the older woman’s bedroom floor. She couldn’t care less, peeling off everything she, or you possibly owned, a chest of ample breasts swinging and soft, chocolate moles dotted from her collarbone to the curve of her rising tits. You feel them perk against your own, nipples coupled and stimulating one another. Her robust figure straddles your hips, strengthened thighs not allowing an escape as she wrestles her lips against yours, groaning in low carnality.

The night is crude, bawdy, and daring. Jill Valentine’s apartment molding into a pornographic masterpiece, with licentious kisses exchanged with swollen lips, and entwined legs that brush against one another. She’s slotted herself so perfectly against your cunt, raising her hips so she can grind her clit against yours, and it’s everything she’s wanted. Everything you've wanted. Hymns of pleasure conjoin, and she’s clamping your thighs as she meets you in the center, a sultry look through her hooded eyes. With nails digging crescents into your skin, she huffs out a hissing moan, string of curse words descending before she can communicate properly.

“So close babe, so fucking close”, Jill’s pelvis pushes upward, folds kissing one another and she connects with you like you’re both two puzzle pieces meant for one another. “Gotta wait for me baby, wait for me, okay?”. She’s already said that many times tonight, stilling her scissoring once she spots even a measly scrunch of enjoyment building up on your youthful features. Egging you on just to shatter any shroud of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck this sweet pussy all night”, she grunts, chuckling in mirth at your whines for release, beads of sweat drawn over her temples. “Be patient with me baby, be patient”. And she’s tugging the ropes again, leg drawn over yours as she rubs against you, over and fucking over again, until you’re a ruptured woman, humbled from your own begging.

[yallthemwitches]

more jealous snape fics? the one where he used legilimency is GOLDD. for some reason i’m a big fan of pov snape fics only if the fic is pro jilly and anti snilly bc JILLY FOREVER ‼️‼️

Hi Anon! I'm glad you liked Legitimens! I took a break from writing Snape/ jily angst (torture?) because I did a lot of them early on and felt like I needed to give it a rest for a bit. If you are interested in a longer fic, Catch the Wind has a good bit of Snape interacting with jily though it is not in his POV ( Chapter 16 notably has some jealous Snape though NSFW so discretion advised)

But! Here's a little ficlet of Snape finding out about jily in 7th for you (Rated T )--felt good to go back to my roots. I hope this satiates the jealous snape desire!

Of all people, he heard it from Bellatrix. 

“You seem to be rather cheery despite the new developments about your mudblood plaything…”

Severus looked up to find the source of the voice draped over the couch, smiling like a predator who had caught a meal in its teeth. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replied, keeping his eyes down as to not give her the satisfaction of his attention.

“Oh, don’t be like that Severus,” she purred, twisting a bit of her frazzled hair around her wand, “You know who I’m talking about…the Evans bitch—the one you’ve had a hard on for since–”

“I know who you are referring to,” Snape spat out, not able to contain his disdain for being taunted, “But of the developments you so clearly want me to be privy to, I don’t care.”

Bellatrix’s eyes lowered to slits, taking her time to let his curiosity set in before letting out a dramatic sigh. 

“Fine. Just thought you’d be a little more charged up seeing that lil’ Miss Evans is taking her Head's duties with Potter to very literal levels.”

His head shot up, his ability to remain cool abandoned. Something resembling bile gurgled at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Stop taking the piss. Having to write patrols and be Dumbledore’s lapdogs is hardly interesting gossip.”

She grinned wider, teeth gleaming in a way that reminded him of some distant muggle cartoon of a creature disappearing behind a malevolent smile. 

“If that’s so, then why did I just see dear ‘ickle Evans with Potter's tongue down her throat on the way over here?”

It was instinctual. His body rose off the floor, letting the book drop with a loud thud as he bounded towards the door. It’s not possible. She’s lying.  Behind him, he could hear Bellatrix and Mucliber’s cackles intermingle into one taunting buzzing sound. 

“Aw, poor Severus. Don’t worry, I’m sure when the Dark Lord gets hold of her, you can have your fill too,” Mulciber called out. 

Bellatrix shrieked in laughter. “I just hope Potter has enough sense to protect his bloodline and only fuck her in the—-”

The door shut, muffling the loud of their howling laughs. 

~

Bellatrix had not been lying. 

She lounged against the giant beech tree with her legs outstretched in front of her, shoes kicked off. It was a place that he had seen her so often throughout the years—a place that she loved to go and study or discuss potions ideas in the years past, but any good memory was quickly shattered by the image of her now. She was not alone. 

Potter lay draped over her, body sandwiched between parted legs and arms encircling her waist with his head resting on her stomach.His glasses had been abandoned at their side and Lily’s finger passed idly over the curves of his face, tracing the outline of his cheek and jaw while he closed his eyes to the sensation. Finger drifting over his lips, Potter caught the hand to hold it against him, giving it a small nip which made Lily cry out a playful shriek. 

Severus moved closer, wondering if he was seeing some kind of mirage—a horrible vision that he would wake up from shortly. Potter looked up from her lap and said something in a hushed tone and Lily’s head fell back in a laugh, red hair cascading down her back and shoulder. Clearly feeling triumphant in his quest to amuse her, he pulled up enough to catch her giggles with his lips; once, twice, three times before the kisses lost their autonomy to fervent mouths twisting together. 

The sensation to wretch bubbled inside of him and he keeled over. Potter and Lily. POTTER and Lily. He knew one day he would eventually have to give her up—Merlin knew she had told him as much the day she ended their friendship back in fifth. But nothing could have prepared him—no divination master could have ever predicted that Lily would fall into such a blatant and heinous trap. 

He shuffled backwards, trying to move quietly despite the couple being too preoccupied in what their mouths and hands were doing to even notice someone on the outskirts of their vision. Turning the corner back into the corridor, he leaned against the cold stone of the archway, a pain of slashed skin and organs tugging at his chest. For the first time, possibly in his entire adolescent life, he wept.

[chocohybrid]

here’s a mad max oc i made a while ago. he’s in dementus’s biker horde and he’s a lil fanboy. he used to be a tunnel monkey for the buzzards but was abandoned when he got too big. some settlers found him and then eventually the horde came across him and he joined up with :3 he LOVES big jilly and is obsessed with the history man’s stories

[delyth-thomas-art]

First duo of Revenges for Artfight. Going with a Beach theme as I'm Team Seafoam, just a lil slow with my covid recovery and the building work going on.

Jilly For World_of_envy

Shadow for JustANormalHTTYDFan

[hannisconfused]

marauders era art dump :))

I’ve been doodling them a lot recently and I wanted to share (my first time sharing art online haha)

so a bunch of mugshots first basically (Lilly took me 2 tries ignore it)

then a james being a jock

reg being sad bc I saw a piece of art of him that inspired this

marlene trashing James in an arm wrestle bc we know she would (and Dorcas and Reg being very gay abt it) and Sirius:OOOOOOOOOOO

and some Jilly as well :)

and then I did a lil spreadsheet of Remus on Clip Studio Paint trial version on my school laptop and I had to take screenshots bc I ain’t paying

I’ll probs put this piece in a separate post and mention all my moony headcanons

ya that’s it thanks for checking it out :D

[copaceticjillybean]

📼

Send 📼 to see an early childhood memory of my muse’s-ACCEPTING!

Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock's hands moved ever so slowly, as Jillian's bright green eyes peered into it's glass face. Her little hands were holding onto a teddy bear, as her grandmother was busy cutting up potatoes and carrots for a soup she was making. Her daddy would be home any minute now, and the eager 4 year old was excited to see him again after a long day of being at her granny's house. "Jilly, come wash up for dinna, pumpkin!" her grandmother called, and Jillian got to her feet and padded her way over, taking a carrot in her hand before crunching into it. "Hah, ya lil' bunny rabbit!" the older woman chuckled, patting Jillian's head and earning a small smile from the quiet girl. Granny was funny. Even if she missed her daddy when he worked, it was still nice being here with her- she never looked at her funny for being too quiet compared to other children, or forced her to play with other kids when they went to the park together. And she always had better snacks than her and her daddy did, like candy and shortbread cookies. About to take another bite of the carrot (already forgetting to wash up now that she was busy with her snack), Jillian's eyes widened as she heard the sound of a car door shutting outside. She quickly sat the carrot on the table and rushed into the foyer, just in time to see her father entering the front door. "Daddy!" the little brunette called, quickly rushing over and getting scooped up by her father. She was greeted by a kiss to her cheek, the tickle of her father's mustache making her squeal with laughter. The rest of the memory is a blur, but the emotions of the scene are clear- happiness. Innocence. Safety. And a bittersweet kind of longing for a time never to be had again.

[themummersfolly]

Untitled Gastown AU, ch 4

It had been, he realized, less than two full days since he’d last been in this spot, on the road just outside the Citadel. The red rocks soared above him; there was no way he hadn’t been seen.

Warthog rolled up beside him. Jag’s helmet was strapped behind him where the young man had once rode.

“You didn’t say who was going in with you, Boss.”

“I’m going in alone.” Twice in the last two days this place had swallowed up bikers and not even spat out the bones. There was no sense in making more casualties than he had to. “Hang out here and don’t engage with ‘em. If I’m not out by noon, hightail it back to Gastown, load up everything you can carry, and beat feet. You can get by for a long time hiding in the hills and raiding convoys.”

With that, he covered his face again and rolled away from his crew, heading into the heart of the Immortan’s stronghold.

They’d spent a sleepless night in Joe’s audience chamber. Even Dementus, who prided himself on being impervious to discomfort, had only gotten a fitful hour or two. The Immortan had set lookouts to keep an eye on Gastown; every hour, he picked up a telephone to hear them say nothing, nothing yet. Daylight faded and electric bulbs buzzed to life. Joe’s sons paced and snapped at each other, the fat man fiddled anxiously with his nipple rings, but Joe remained unperturbed. He’d ignored Dementus’ bluster and even had dinner served, though he’d offered none of it to the bikers. Lil D he’d had sent away, and laughed at Dementus’ protests.

“Your daughter? You killed her mother. She’ll be better cared for with me than you could ever manage.”

At one point he’d opened his eyes to see the faint light of dawn on the wall of the opposite tower. Rizzdale and Big Jilly had been talking in low voices. They fell silent when they saw he was awake.

“Gastown gone up yet?”

The two men looked at each other with trepidation.

“No,” Rizzdale answered at last. Dementus groaned.

“That drongo.” Maybe he’d misjudged the Octoboss’s brains. Him and his Mortifiers, strutting around like they were better than the rest of the Horde. When he got back, he’d give the cunt something to complain about.

Several hours after sun-up, a Warboy hurried in and said something to Joe in a low, urgent voice that Dementus couldn’t make out. The Immortan and his entourage turned toward the entrance, the guards standing up straighter and holding their weapons a little tighter. Something was happening.

A single set of footsteps echoed down the corridor and a lanky, black-clad figure came into view. The Octoboss had left his distinctive helmet with his bike. His held his hands in the air.

“I’m unarmed. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Here to threaten us if your leader isn’t returned?” sneered the fat man. “Blow up Gastown?”

“Gastown’s fine.” The Octoboss didn’t bat an eye. “Everything’s there, everything still works. I’m just here to talk.”

Joe’s eyes bore down on the lone man. “Tell us what you came to say.”

“You had a deal with Gastown: food and water for guzzoline. We want the same deal. We’ll even sweeten it for you. We’re loading up the rig from yesterday and another tanker we found and sending them here, full up with guzzoline. You keep our bellies full, we’ll keep your tanks full. No trouble.”

The Immortan regarded him, weighing his offer. The Octoboss didn’t flinch under his gaze.

“I could simply have you killed and get the same deal. What then? What of your Mortifiers?”

“You kill me, you’ll have a thousand leaderless bikers to sort out. And my Mortifiers will take offence. They can’t touch you in here, but they can make your life hell out there on the roads.”

If the Immortan wasn’t pleased with these terms, he wasn’t displeased. The fat man stepped forward.

“Your attack on Gastown has cost us. We expect to be compensated. Half again the guzzoline for each shipment of food, and all of the found items you bring in.”

“Half again the guzzoline for the first hundred days only,” the Octoboss countered. “No found items, but we’ll keep the roads clear from here to Gastown to Bullet Farm and back.”

One of Joe’s sons started forward, teeth bared, but Joe stopped him before he could speak. The fat man pursed his lips and looked back at the warlord. Joe gave the faintest of nods.

“Keep the roads clear and the guzzoline flowing, and the food shipments will continue.”

“Deal,” the Octoboss replied, almost too quickly, and spat on the ground. The fat man, in Joe’s stead, spat as well.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting your comrades back.” The Immortan motioned to the captives. Dementus had stayed quiet through the negotiation, aided by the business end of a shotgun in his face and the grudging knowledge that this was the only way he was getting back to his horde. Now he shuffled forward hopefully on his knees.

“Yeah! Yeah. The Red Dementus agrees to these terms, and is damn glad you’re here, you took your bloody time…”

Throughout the talks, the Octoboss’s expression had barely changed. Now, for the first time, he looked down at his former leader, and the coldness in his eyes made Dementus’ voice recoil in his throat.

“I don’t need all of ‘em. The History Man, I need him to help run the place. These four,” he pointed to Mr. Harley, Mr. Davidson, Big Jilly, and Fang. “They’ll keep the bikers in line.”

Guards moved to strike the chains off the men he indicated. They glanced at each other and at Dementus, but looked away before he could meet their eyes and hurried to stand behind the Octoboss.

“And the girl?” Joe asked.

The Octoboss blinked, as if he’d forgotten about her. “Keep her. She’s been trouble for us.” He looked around. “Where’s Organic Mechanic?”

“He will be staying here,” Joe replied with a finality that the Octoboss didn’t dare challenge. “And these others- what should I do with them?”

He motioned at the remaining three. Smeg was trembling and appeared to have pissed himself; Rizzdale and Dementus craned and bobbed, desperately trying to catch the Octoboss’s eyes. He shrugged.

“Whatever you want.” He spared a glance at Smeg, who looked about to faint. “This one’s annoying, but he’s harmless. You could keep him around, if it suits you.” He took a half step back. “We’ll be going now, if that’s all.”

Joe beckoned, and the guards moved to escort them out.

“Hey!” Dementus tried to shuffle after them and was stopped by several rifles trained on him. “You’re not just gonna turn your back on me? After everything we’ve been through, all our magnificent adventures? You’re just going to leave me here?”

The Octoboss stopped and looked back on him, and the hatred in his eyes froze Dementus in place. For a moment it looked like he wanted to come back, if only to lash out at the former biker lord. The presence of the Immortan’s guards kept him from trying. Instead, his lip curled.

“Take it up with my men you killed.” Then he turned, flanked by the guards, and was gone.

[roopnavarro]

Behind-the-scenes pics from Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024)

[euclydya]

🍓✨!! :]

🍓 - What's your headspace like, if you have one? Does your headspace have any lore to it?

It's very expansive! Our main headspace is a giant sunny field of flowers. Nearby is a cave that leads to Mischief's layer, a mansion that belongs to Dark, and another house that belongs to Chase.

Harry's headspace, the headspace our brain is currently focused on, mainly takes after our childhood home, which was a lil trailer.

Aaaand my headspace, which is becoming more popular fhdiskfjd, is a small patch of forest with like... 3 doors out in the open that lead to Mind, Heart, and Soul's bedrooms + an extra door that leads to my room. It also has a giant tree that has a swing tied to it.

The most expansive rn though is Harry's headspace. The trailer leads to outside how we remembered it growing up in a trailer park but we can sorta.,, teleport? around. you kinda have to cuz everyone's got separate rooms and they're very.,, far away from the main part of Harry's headspace [the trailer] ajskdkdksdk but yeah Most of the Furies have their own bedrooms there. if one in particular doesn't then it's because they moved in w someone else, like for example Inland, Shivers, and Concept all share a bedroom rn

There isn't really any lore with any of our headspaces tbh! ig the most lore any of em has is Harry's and that's because the main portion of it resembles our childhood home auaisjdjdjsj

-Jilly

[booksdogsmagicandmore]

Oh thanks for the tag! I shuffled my favorites playlist which I’ve been slowly adding to since high school.

No pressure tags:

@abundanceofpersonality @mr-jillie @shnorfff @katsura-janai-zura-da @that-one-corvid @justasmallgardengnome

Challenging you all!

Put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most!

Then tag Tumblr friends to keep the game going!

[frankensaffytaffy]

not to group in all gingers (even though I'm in love with all of you), but there's something so special about imagining Lily reading Anne of Green Gables as a kid and hardcore relating to Anne

like, obviously they might look similar, red hair, freckles, maybe a bit insecure (Anne thinking she was homely</3 and as a plus-size girlie myself, I could see Lils being a little insecure about it in her younger years- even tho she's lovely), but also she's BRILLIANT. Both girls have such bright, intelligent personalities and free, creative spirits

see also; James. is. Gilbert. a boy completely enamoured with the poor redhead, teasing her and pining after her even though she kinda hates him and potentially even views him as an (academic) rival?! was I describing Jilly or Anne/Gilbert? THEY'RE THE SAME!! and its so cute and so perfect, because in both stories they end up madly in love and married, it just makes me giggle

absolutely do NOT think about the parallel of Lily reading and loving a book about an orphaned girl, finding comfort in it, without knowing that her own son would be an orphan; imagining little Harry tracing his mother's name on the inside cover of her old copy :(

[issytwosims]

Lil baby Jilly-bean gots an A+ YIPPEE!!

[backuparguelles]

Emmie Becomes a Wraith

Based on “100% Molly McGee” I decided to make Molly and Darryl’s cousin Emmie Suksai McGee’s weekend visit special, as a pink wraith ghost. With special guest Libby.

Libby: so your uhhhh… Emmie McGee? U look like your Molly’s lil sister so does the face. Emmie: nice to meet ya Libby, I know Molly like u since u guys met here. And your a book lover too? Libby: yup and turtles too. I got a few to hold. Emmie: they’re so cute!!! Darryl: Hey Emmie since u and our uncle discovered our ghostly secret. Maybe me and Molly spend a weekend even better both here and in the Ghost World. Emmie: wait, I can be a ghost? Molly: well not quite dead yet but there’s a loophole called a “wraith”. Your ghostly form keeps your emotions and energy but your body is nearly boring and dull. Emmie: how we gonna know we’re going to the Ghost World. Darryl: pretend that we’re in the attic napping. Emmie: okay! (attic door open) Hey dad, uncle, and aunt; we’re just taking a nap for several hours before dinner. Alright he’s cool with. Scratch: alright kids get ready to cross zap twice jump. Get ready to rip your souls!!!

And that the bodies of the McGee kids and Libby zapped and became quite soulless and boring. But their emotionally main souls are in their ghostly wraith form in yellow, lime green, pink, and mint green. Emmie: oh my corn, eeeeeeeeee!!! I’m really a pink flying cutie RAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Libby: sweet corn she did it! Scratch: wow nice pink and some red lava color tones. But the scare-off with be after dinner in my Ghost Council as the Chairman of the afterlife. Molly: it’s a kinda long story tho but technically we’re not dead yet. Libby: alright we leave them the bed, bean bag chairs, and plushies without knowing we’re dead. Darryl: hold on tight ladies and Scratch because there’s no sunlight in the Ghost World but we can be a scary freakshow ghouls in an instant. When they enter the Ghost World, Emmie: oh my corn! Look at that place Wow!!! Weeeeeeeeee!!!!!! Emmie says hi and shakes hands to many ghosts as they can until they approach Geoff. Geoff: hey hey Scratch, McGees and Libby!!! Your the girl cousin McGee right? I’m Geoff that G-E-O-F-F not to be confused with my long time partner Jeff that’s J-E-F-F. Emmie: does he do that every time we meet them. Molly: it’s confusing but yes. Darryl: there’s Jeff with a J as described by Geoff with a G, Reggie an assistant to Scratch, Sally Tugbottom the real hero and founder of Brighton despite she has a little evil bro named Ezekiel Tugbottom, Blair: who works at the video store and a horror movie fan, The Barrister Ghosts aka Scratch’s board members consisting of Bartholomew, Sir Alister, Lucretia, and Grimbella; Howlin’ Harriet a singing salami selling woman that once have no toes, and Sonia Davis a former pro-skater and the other ghost with legs. Blair: oh hi welcome to the Ghost World, I know Molly so well u want some stale popcorn? Emmie: no thanks, that’s sour. Bartholomew: hope this visit is more special my dear McGee. Emmie: That’s Suksai McGee sir Bart. Darryl: my dad and his Irish older sibs aka Billy and Jilly are the McGee side of my family while my mom, his brother, and my mother’s mom aka Grandma Nin represents the Suksai part of the family. Sir Alister: so technically its Suksai McGee u say. Reminded me of Molly’s best friend Libby. Sonia: awwwww!!! Your family is getting bigger by the minute. Reggie: your really look like Molly, u almost like sisters! Emmie: u look like Scratch’s lil bro!!! Scratch: hey Geoff, I got fiery snacks that Emmie and his dad bought. Extra hot seaweed chips!!! Hey Jeff, Sally, Reggie, and many others. U need to try this chips, I tried but I survived the burnout. Good luck with your purple tongues!!! Geoff: even we’re not alive but really, how I’m gonna be afraid of a bag of sea chips made out from underwater? “CHOMP!” Oh my ghost, it’s hotter than lava in a volcano!!! Jeff: cough cough!!! What kind of organic chips is this? That’s from the ocean??? Sally: yeow! It’s a burning sea plant without burning the chips y’all!!! Reggie: my glasses are burning wildfire!!! Blair: wow, I need a soda here or water or milk!!! Darryl: should we get milk now ? Molly: oh boy there goes the supply of cows! Hold on guys!!!

Later they McGees learn to cook Thai food on top of the Ghost Council mountain, then dinner is finally served. Sir Alister: alright everyone a feast is about to begin! Oh wait I got some ice from Sonia. Molly: we got Thai food but we put some flags on it whether it’s spicy or not. I’ll get the non-spicy ones. Jeff: wait Molly, u got fire powers without eating spicy foods. Molly: it’s powers not food Jeff. Scratch: u want cola, root beer, lemon-lime, citrus, orange, strawberry, cream soda, ginger ale, cherry, grapefruit, and grape. Darryl: got milk too? Scratch: oh yeah!!! No one ever misses a drink. Geoff: wait there’s grape and grapefruit? Molly: they’re different fruits Geoff. Sally: great golly wild west! That’s a spicy shrimpy with bbq y’all! Reggie: so does the noodles and veggies. Oh my that’s a spicy beef! Wow that’s hot!!! RAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!! Blair: I got it on tape Reggie!!! Jeff: wow a dragon blaster! Nice! Geoff: this is much better than Molly’s house. Molly: I learned it from Grandma Nin. Darryl: hey guys, I heard that story sprite says what’s for dessert? Emmie: Mango ice cream!!! Grimbella: wow! It’s fascinating style of long strings sipping on a pink tongue. Sir Alister: pass me the baos and paos. Spicy beef please. Scratch: alright everyone a toast to a new regime, say easy peasy McGeesies!!! Geoff; got any more milk. My purple tongue still sparks. Darryl: chocolate anyone? We got strawberry too! Geoff: oh boy, so much for the flamin hot seaweed chips! Ugh still burning here in my mouth. Emmie: I think I gonna like this place! Muahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!! Sally: whoa whoa!!! Easy there Emmie my dear!!! Darryl: we been there before but hey, don’t fool the cuteness unless if a bad guy approaches. Blair: I’m new to the ghost world months ago but hey scary is scary!!! And I got it on tape!!! Lucretia: oh my now that’s a horror movie u say my Blair dear.

After the dinner a scare off is on the top of the rock of the Ghost Council mountain.

Scratch: after a weird and burning dinner party. I want to have another human friend make a great scare. Meet Emmie McGee!!! Dead or alive may the best fight win!!! Molly: sure lemme try first, ahem hissssssssssssss!!!!!! raaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!! Darryl: really watch this ladies and gentelmen, guuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! and also braaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!! Libby: lemme think about my scare I taught oh wait here it is now yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Emmie: beginners luck but can u try this? RAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Jeff: dang girl. She needs a family partner to keep in touch even if their far away between Brighton and New York. Reggie: can I take her to New York? Scratch: sold!!! Reggie gets a human friend for Emmie and his dad!!! Emmie: finally I got a ghost friend!!! This is the best family visit ever both in Brighton and the Ghost World!!! Geoff: she grew up so fast so does Reggie!!! Molly: now we never gonna be apart with just a portal away even we’re just ghostly wraiths since we can’t let human bodies in! Darryl: if u even need us, Just need Reggie will ya so does a video call. Emmie: I love u all the ghouls especially I overcome fear of ghosts. Scratch: oh btw, keep this three wanted posters in your room. One has a scythe another are bubbly but tearful runts who are evil opposites to the council plus a green blowhard show-off and yeah I’m talking about Tug the Tornado. Keep an eye on those 3 baddies besides since I’m the Chairman of this realm there’s some nasty revenge on me and the McGees. Emmie: sure sir I won’t let u down!!! Libby: so if we come home as humans I can tour my mom’s bookstore for some shopping and learning. Emmie: can I read your books? Libby: a ghost journal might recommend u and I have a copy for free. Emmie: oh thanks Libby, your a great friend to Molly!!! Libby: hey uh anymore hugs. Darryl: ugh Scratch!!! Your chairman’s robe is squeezing us hard!!! Molly: Okay now we go home as humans. See ya later my afterlife friends!!! Sally: I knew Molly is the best human we ever met! Geoff: me too. It’s a simple love and fun. Blair: hope u see us again! Byeeeeee!!!

The end